A Good Feeling
It was a good feeling
Not so long ago
To read Rumi or Neruda,
Look up at the moon and imagine
That one day we would reside as one
In the blade at the very tip of the crescent
But reality remains
And time reveals
That you are less than I thought
And I have finally evaluated myself,
Finding me wanting
While I continue to look up and up
From my place down here
Behind a window in the night
But now seeing just what is there.
I don’t know who or what resides
At the blade tip of the crescent moon
But it will never contain
Us.
No.
Love will always be a wheel
That, once it begins to move,
Is
Rolling away.
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals in the last dozen years. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poems online.
It was a good feeling
Not so long ago
To read Rumi or Neruda,
Look up at the moon and imagine
That one day we would reside as one
In the blade at the very tip of the crescent
But reality remains
And time reveals
That you are less than I thought
And I have finally evaluated myself,
Finding me wanting
While I continue to look up and up
From my place down here
Behind a window in the night
But now seeing just what is there.
I don’t know who or what resides
At the blade tip of the crescent moon
But it will never contain
Us.
No.
Love will always be a wheel
That, once it begins to move,
Is
Rolling away.
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals in the last dozen years. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poems online.
